


drunken confessions are oft forgotten

by g0ryllama



Series: Murrmin ;) [10]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous Genitals, Awkward Sexual Situations, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Petting, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-05-20 23:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0ryllama/pseuds/g0ryllama
Summary: Snufkin wakes up disoriented, in Moomin’s bed (clothes still on thankfully).He doesn’t remember anything after Snorkmaiden spilled her drink over Little My’s head, and if he were to be honest, he hopes he never does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 👀 pretty sure you all know what i'm about by now

The music reminds him of one of his furthest travels South, a deep thumping noise that reverberates in his bones. It's not unpleasant but it does leave a strange ringing in Snufkin’s ears.

Why did he even agree to come?

Sniff had travelled with a group of people looking for ways to make money (which he certainly doesn’t need in Moominvalley, his friend’s desires completely beyond him), and had returned with pieces of a culture he’d experienced. Music, drink, dancing. So similar to things they already have here, and yet so different.

Snufkin currently has a glass of something called a ‘mojito’, which he is thoroughly enjoying, but makes his head feel a little fuzzy. He knows what alcohol is, of course, but he’s never liked how it tastes until now. It’s fresh, and doesn’t burn his throat the way whiskey does, or taste mouldy the way wine does.

The party isn’t the biggest, but with his friends, Sniff’s new friends and a few curious valley inhabitants, Sniff’s small house definitely feels cramped. Quite a few people moved out into his garden to talk over the music, leaving the living room for dancing and having fun. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, Snufkin would’ve left by now, but it had strengthened his resolve enough that he can sit in the corner and watch Moomintroll dance with Little My without feeling the need to run away.

Well. Not too much anyway.

Snufkin doesn't know how much time passes before he has downed at least four more of those strange, minty drinks (the person tending the bar had slipped a phone number into his hand with a wink, and Snufkin knows he's had too much to drink when it makes his gut warm instead of making him want to puke). The lights feel hot on his face, the music's deep thumping almost syncing up with his heartbeat, and Snufkin feels like laughing.

He should get drunk more often, he decides, putting his empty glass down and almost skipping over to Moomintroll. "Hey Moomin!"

The troll, for all his great bravery, jumps in shock at the sound of Snufkin's shouting near his cheek. "O-oh Snufkin! Hi!"

There's a scuffle as Little My climbs up onto Snorkmaiden's shoulder, but Snufkin quickly takes her place in front of Moomin. "Hi!"

He doesn't even register the awkwardness of repeating the greeting, mind someplace entirely else. The multi-coloured flashing lights change the white colour of Moomintroll's fur to match, the outline of him like a fuzzy rainbow. Snufkin may or may not have voiced such an observation, but he's too busy dancing to register a response, letting the music guide his body without much of a second thought.

At some point, Moomin wanders off, but Snufkin finds he doesn't mind, joining Snorkmaiden and Little My instead, until they wander off to the bar and leave Snufkin alone. After a few minutes he realises, looking around for a large fluffy friend-shaped creature and finds him staring out of a window.

He looks busy. He's not going to interrupt. He moves to stand next to him anyway.

There's a loud scream from the bar and everyone turns to see what happened. Little My stands in a puddle, soaked from head to toe in what he can only assume is Snorkmaiden's drink. They glare at each other so fiercely that Snufkin shudders from it as though it was directed at him.

Sniff hands out some more drinks (he calls them tequila shots) to distract from the show as the two girls storm out, shouting at each other, and Snufkin hates the taste but decides he could have more.

Now he feels like he's floating, if he wasn't before. He has to sit down on the windowsill next to Moomin otherwise Snufkin is sure he'd fall, and he laughs as he says that (is he saying every thought out loud?), nudging his friend's shoulder with his elbow.

"Snuff, I think I should take you home."

Snufkin frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why?"

"You're slurring your words."

But he was just starting to have fun! What a spoilsport.

Judging by the exasperated look on Moomintroll's face, he says that out loud too, but does he care? Does he care about anything? With the alcohol coursing through his veins, he finds he doesn't.

"Home. Come on," Moomintroll stands, looking expectantly at the mumrik in front of him. Snufkin giggles when the other crosses his arms, not moving. He's not going anywhere. "Snufkin, if I leave you here you'll have to share a bed with Sniff."

Snufkin moves too quickly (no way he's sharing a bed with Sniff of all people), sliding off the windowsill with very little grace, stumbling into the moomin. "Fine." Moomintroll holds onto his shoulders, frowning.

They leave through the front door, and Snufkin waves at the bartender who winks at him. Moomintroll sighs loudly, turning to look, and the bartender looks away quickly.   


Did he just glare at them? Maybe alcohol makes the moomin angry.

"I'm not angry!" Moomintroll stops walking, and Snufkin trips on thin air, and somewhere above them (on the roof of Sniff's house probably, but Snufkin can't tell), Little My cackles. "But the way they were looking at you wasn't right."

"Why not? I liked them." Snufkin pouts, feeling a little ridiculous now he's on the floor. There's something dark and a little defensive in the other's sky blue eyes, and he bites his lip, ignoring the way his gaze makes him blush, pushing himself back up to his feet.

"That's because you're drunk."

He can't argue with that. He looks up and sees that Snorkmaiden and Little My seem to have made up (are they making out? God, he doesn't want to know. He hopes they keep  _ that _ to Snorkmaiden's house, they're in public), but Sniff is nowhere to be seen. Shame, he wanted to say goodbye.

"Snufkin you are not going back in there," Moomintroll grabs his wrist, not too hard, but strong enough that Snufkin is pulled to a stop as he starts to wander back inside. "I'll carry you if I have to."

There's a thought. He pulls on Moomin's hold of him, absently wondering what on earth he's actually doing, sending what he hopes is a teasing look over his shoulder. "Then you have to."

Moomintroll laughs, the dark look in his eyes fading before he scoops the mumrik up into a bridal carry like he weighs nothing. Snufkin can feel his cheeks heat up like crazy, not really sure what to do with his hands. They land somewhere in Moomin's chest fur, his fingers curling gently into the softness without his permission. The bartender isn't this fluffy. Probably not as strong either, the layers of fur and squishy fat hiding firm muscles that Snufkin low-key admires.

He likes being carried by Moomintroll. It feels safe, and fun, and he's so comfortable.

Vaguely, Snufkin thinks he might have pressed his face into Moomin's shoulder, because he's currently  _ nuzzling into his fur _ as the other climbs the stairs to his bedroom, stating something about making sure Snufkin doesn't choke on any vomit in his sleep. He's so soft, so warm, it feels so natural to want to get as close as he can.

A lot of the cheery, fun haze that the alcohol had formed in his head fades when they enter the bedroom, leaving him dizzy, like he's seeing everything through a layer of fog.

Moomintroll sets him down on the bed, a shy grin on his face as he shuts the door. "You're funny when you're drunk, Snuff."

"I can't feel my toes."

They both giggle uncontrollably, and Snufkin shuffles over on the bed to give Moomin room, laying on his side facing his friend. Slowly their laughter dies down, the both of them settling on the mattress, not close enough to be touching.

The moonlight peeks in through a gap in the shutters, lighting up the fur on Moomin's head from behind. Has he always looked so angelic in the moonlight?

His hand gently strokes the fur in between his ears, where the light seems to love, and finds it has good reason to. Snufkin loves it too.

"Snufkin?"

"You're so soft, Moomin. So gentle," Snufkin is aware that he's rambling, almost like he's watching the scene from a distance, but he doesn't care. "I just want to touch you all the time."

A dusting of blush spreads across the troll's snout like a pink cloud in a white sky, and Snufkin suddenly has the urge to kiss him.

He's felt it before, a few times, mostly when they're out stargazing and the stars seem to fade in comparison to the beauty of his best friend. Or when they go swimming in the sea on a hot Summer's day and the azure blue of the water can never compare to the clarity of Moomin's eyes. Or when they dance around a campfire with all their friends, and he can't take his eyes off of the way the firelight seems to give Moomintroll an ethereal glow, like he's a being far more special than anyone else. And he is, especially to Snufkin, who can only stare after him wistfully, with an ache in his chest and a smile on his lips that won't reach his eyes because he can't kiss him.

But now, he's drunk. And his inhibitions are lowered. And they're in Moomintroll's bedroom, alone, on the same bed.

He could totally kiss him right now.

So he does. Snufkin leans in, hand sliding down to Moomin's snout carefully, to tilt it up a little, and presses his lips softly against the other's. Feather-light and cautious, like a breath.

Maybe, because Moomin is also a little drunk, this is the coward's way out. Because if it all goes downhill, Snufkin knows they'll both forget it by the morning. He can't risk losing the only person he's ever truly loved in such a strong way, but here and now, he can show him just how much he cares with barely any risks attached.

So it startles him when Moomintroll pushes back a little against his lips, a paw gently caressing his waist as though Snufkin might break or disappear if he touches him too hard. One of them moans (or maybe they both do), and what was a soft and sweet kiss becomes heated in no time.

What is abundantly clear is that neither of them are very good at making out. Their tongues rub together awkwardly when they both decide to lick at the other's lips at the same time. It makes them both giggle a little, which in turn causes their teeth to knock together, which then makes them wince. It's awful for a first kiss, but Snufkin loves it.

They pull apart for only a moment to readjust, before Moomintroll surges back in, snout nudging uncomfortably against Snufkin's face, but he can ignore that in favour of reaching out to tilt the other's head and find a position that suits them both.

Moomin's tongue is a lot longer than Snufkin's, which he finds out the hard way when it slides into his mouth and almost down his throat, both of them surprised. It feels so odd to have his  _ tongue _ in his mouth, but he kind of likes it, swirling his tongue around the other and relishing in the shocked moan it pulls out of him.

There's a knee between his legs, and a deep heat settles into his gut as it pushes against his groin slowly. Snufkin's fingers find purchase in the fur of Moomin's scruff, as he grinds down against his knee, gasping loudly into the kiss when the other grips his waist with both hands and lays him flat underneath him, leg still between Snufkin's as he pushes his hips down against him, almost desperately.

They pull apart messily, a string of saliva connecting their mouths in a way that's deliciously dirty. "We're too drunk for this…" The troll has an apologetic look on his face when Snufkin focuses his eyes forcefully. It's true but it doesn't mean they should stop, right?

"I suppose…" He'll only come to regret it if he remembers, and if Moomin doesn't want this to go any further then Snufkin will happily accept that (well, perhaps 'happily' isn't exactly the truth, maybe willingly). "I can leave?"

"God no, don't go. I just don't want us to do something we might regret in the morning…"

It feels like a punch to his gut, to know that the troll probably will regret him, but again, Moomintroll is right. Snufkin knows that no matter what, this will change things. It's for the best that they stop. They can wave off some heavy petting and making out as drunken shenanigans, but anything more than that would be hard to deny.

And he is far too drunk to be able to properly consent anyway.

"We should sleep then," Snufkin says, yawning mostly for an excuse to turn his head away. "See you in the morning."

There's a quiet sigh before Moomin flops onto the mattress behind Snufkin, who curls away from him instinctively. "Snufkin, it's… It's not because I don't want you… You know that, right?"

His fingers idly pull at a stray thread in the bedsheet, watching it pucker to avoid having to answer. What does he mean? Of course he doesn't know that.

"... Because I do. I just want it to be something we'll both remember, and enjoy."

Oh.

Moomintroll does want him like that. Does it change anything? It changes everything.

Snufkin turns to look over his shoulder, finding Moomin's eyes to be staring up at the ceiling with a frown. "... Me too."

Their eyes meet, and Snufkin finds the breath in his lungs knocked out by the heat and… Dare he say, love, in the other's eyes.

"Another time, then," his friend whispers, snout resting on Snufkin's cheek before nuzzling, and it feels like a confession that his heart can't take yet. "Goodnight Snufkin."

His arm loops over Snufkin's waist comfortably, pulling his back flush against his front and resting his head on top of the mumrik's. It doesn't take long for him to start snoring softly, breaths deep and slow.

"Goodnight Moomintroll," Snufkin whispers, hand covering his paw on his stomach and locking their fingers together. "I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

Snufkin wakes up disoriented, in Moomin’s bed (clothes still on thankfully). His head aches distantly, like there's a very tiny person banging a mallet against his temples, and he feels like his stomach might twist its way into a pretzel, but he feels otherwise very warm and comfortable.

Moomin's arm is wrapped around his waist, and they're pressed so close together, Snufkin can feel every inhale and exhale the other takes. It's nice, not stifling, even if he sort of wants it to be. Then he'd have a reason to not enjoy it as much as he is.

He doesn’t remember anything about last night after Snorkmaiden spilled her drink over Little My’s head, and if he were to be honest, he hopes he never does.

He doesn't know why. He just gets a strange foreboding that something changed last night, and he'd rather not know what.

Well. The arm wrapped around his waist maybe gives him a glimpse into whatever it was that happened last night, but this isn't the first time they've shared a bed, and it's also not the first time Snufkin has woken up being spooned by Moomintroll.

His cheeks are hot when he touches them. Oh god he can't deal with this.

What did he do last night? Will Moomin remember? He doesn't want him to. Maybe if he knocks him out, he'll lose some of his memory, like Snorkmaiden did that one time when she thought she was a princess... No, that's mean.

Snufkin makes a vow to never drink that much again.

Deciding not to dwell on it, he extricates himself from under the other's hold carefully so as not to wake him, tiptoeing around the bed and to the bedroom door. He partly remembers leaving his hat in his tent, and he searches his pockets for his harmonica, a small sigh of relief escaping his lips at the feeling of the warm metal under his fingers. A slip of paper falls out as he removes his hand, and Snufkin has a mild flashback to minty drinks and a bright white smirk. Oh he flirted with a bartender.

Embarrassing.

No one else seems to be awake yet, Mamma and Pappa probably still asleep and Little My nowhere to be seen.

Back in his tent, everything seems to calm down; his cheeks aren't burning and his hands don't ache to bury into soft white fur, and Snufkin can happily pretend that he wasn't drunk enough to lose his mind last night.

* * *

 

Moomin won't stop staring at him.

At first Snufkin thought he had something on his face, or maybe his hair was coming out from under his hat in a weird way, but after self-consciously checking both of those things, he came up at a complete loss.

He definitely did something weird last night then. Thank god he can't remember. It’s just a shame the moomin does.

"Did you sleep okay, Moomintroll?" Snufkin asks, resting his chin on his knees as he watches the way the troll seems ridiculously focused on chopping up the firewood (Moomin knew Snufkin had caught him staring).

The axe comes down with too much force, splitting the trunk he was using as a table too. Snufkin raises an eyebrow, and Moomin laughs awkwardly, looking away almost as quickly as he looked over. "Yep."

A light breeze ruffles the other's fur, and Snufkin is vaguely reminded of how soft it felt against his face. When was his fur in his face? "You seem tense."

"Oh really?" Moomin chops another log, and if Snufkin looks closely, he can see the way his muscles strain a little with the weight of the axe. It's a purely aesthetic appreciation. "How strange."

Snufkin nods. Strange indeed.

* * *

 

"You mean you don't remember anything from last night at all?"

Snufkin shakes his head, finger slowly tracing the rim of his mug. "I can remember some stuff. Up until you threw your drink over Little My. After that, it's all hazy."

Snorkmaiden sighs, a slight flush on her cheeks at the mention of their fiasco. "Ah. You drank too much."

"Yes I could've told you that."

She gives him a look and he crosses his arms defensively, sitting back in the chair. The two of them are sat in Snorkmaiden's garden, watching My and Moomin making flower crowns in her flower patch (after getting the snork's permission, of course).

If he focuses enough, he can almost remember feeling paws on his waist, and he doesn't like that it's beginning to slowly come back to him.   


"You're a funny drunk, Snufkin," she says lightly, a knowing look in her eyes when he turns his attention back to her. "Much more open than usual."

He nods, not really sure what to say in response.

"Whatever happened last night, it seems Moomintroll remembers. Maybe you should ask him." She stands, giving him a small smile before joining the others, giggling when they both present her with flower crowns of different colours.

Moomin waves at him, and Snufkin takes a deep breath before smiling back. He can tell his smile is less than satisfactory when the troll frowns softly. He knows the other can tell there's something wrong, and he also knows that whatever it is, Moomin knows.

The taste of the tea doesn't take away the taste of Moomintroll coating his mouth, and it only confuses him more when he realises he has no idea how or why he can taste him.

* * *

 

Lunch is just as awkward. Little My seems to have it in for Snufkin, making joke after joke at his expense. "He fell over nothing! It was so funny, I couldn't stop laughing!"

"That's mean, Little My," Moomin defends, but there's a grin on his face that negates any attempt at making Snufkin feel better. "Although it was funny."

Snufkin narrows his eyes in a glare, chewing on his sandwich grumpily. He doesn't remember falling over. Must've been after Snorkmaiden got angry at Little My.

"What were you two arguing about at the bar?" He asks, genuinely interested, and also just to detract attention from himself.   


"Little My thought I wouldn't react to her calling me 'easy'." Snorkmaiden explains, gritting her teeth.

Snufkin knows Little My can be mean, but that seems uncharacteristically nasty.   


"That is not what I said! I thought we sorted this!"

Moomintroll stifles a laugh behind his paw, saying something about them sorting it out in bed (Snufkin vaguely remembers the two girls making out on Sniff's roof, and finds himself trying to not laugh too).

"What's so funny about that? Coming from the ones who wandered off into the woods alone together. Was it nice, being carried by Moomintroll, Snufkin?" Little My has a self-satisfied smirk on her face, only growing when Snufkin drops his sandwich onto the plate.

Carried? Is that why he remembers soft fur against his face?

"What did you two sort out in bed, hmm?"

Moomintroll frowns, laughter disappearing. "None of your business."

Oh no. Something definitely happened.

* * *

 

"I don't want to know…" Snufkin starts, when Moomin opens his mouth with a pleading look in his eyes. He can't do this. "Can we just move on? I don't remember, and I don't want to, and I think it'd be better if it stays that way."

Moomin's mouth closes with an audible snap of his teeth clenching shut.

They're sat around Snufkin's campfire, a pot of soup boiling quietly between them, because for some reason, Moomintroll seemed desperate to stick with him (and Snufkin is totally not in denial about why).

"I don't."

Snufkin frowns, stirring the pot. "That's because you remember."

"Exactly! I remember, and it's killing me to remember when you  _ don't _ !" He stands up, and Snufkin watches him, ignoring the anxiety winding around his throat. "It's not even bad, Snufkin!"

If it isn't bad, why does he feel like whatever happened last night was a catastrophe? There's a quiet chirping from a cricket not too far away, with almost perfect comedic timing. "For you, maybe."

Moomintroll huffs loudly, paws clenched into fists as he gets steadily more and more frustrated. "You're like a completely different person when you're drunk."

The handle of the ladle in his hand bends a little from how hard he grips it, a snarky retort on the tip of his tongue. "Well maybe it's drunk me that you like more."

It's not what Snufkin would have wanted to say but he can't help but wonder, because he can't remember last night, that the Snufkin that went to bed with Moomin was a different one to the one that woke up there.

"No Snufkin, I like every you, because I like you."

"... Fine what happened last night?"

Moomin looks like a rabbit in the light of a torch, as though he wasn't expecting Snufkin to acquiesce so easily, but Snufkin has had enough of pretending that Moomin's awkwardness wasn't getting to him. At least if everything falls apart now, he can blame it on being drunk and not… Anything else.

"We kissed. And maybe made out a little…"

"... Who started it?" Snufkin asks, voice shaky. He has a feeling he knows the answer to his question before he even finishes it, but he just needs Moomin to confirm his fears.   


"Well, you kissed me, and I started the making out…? So both of us?" His paws wring together and Snufkin groans, dropping the ladle into the soup and holding his head in his hands. "... If you're wondering who stopped it going too far, I did."

He  _ was  _ wondering but that makes him feel worse. "I'm so sorry Moomintroll…"

"Um…? Why? It's not like you started it and I stopped it straight away."

"Well I don't remember, Moomin. And that's exactly what it sounds like." Everything's a little muffled. He regrets drinking so much, even going to the party in the first place was obviously the worst decision he could've made.

"No Snufkin, I only stopped it because we were both too drunk to be completely aware," there's a slight resolution to his voice now, like he's steeled himself up to say something risky, and Snufkin doesn't know if he wants him to try or not. "I… Can't read your mind, but I'd wager you… Wanted to keep going…?"

Oh wow. Is Moomintroll asking if he wants to get with him?

He groans again, feeling his cheeks burn against his hands. "... This is so awkward."

"Well it is now!" There's a slight humorous chuckle from the troll (how is he so confident all of a sudden?), and Snufkin feels a little silly. Moomintroll would never hate him, and if he was the one that took the step from kissing to making out then of course he was interested. "I can't tell if that's you agreeing or not."

If drunk Snufkin could take the leap of faith it took to kiss Moomintroll originally then sober Snufkin could take it a step further (because he had more agency) and just be brave.

Still hiding his face (because he's not  _ that  _ brave), Snufkin sighs before clarifying. "Yes, I probably wanted to keep going, and if I could remember last night then I'd still want to. I mean, I do want… That, but if I can't remember what last night was like then is it… Gonna work?"

He doesn't know what he's saying, his words muffled and quiet and rushed, because he was worried he'd chicken out of saying anything otherwise. Moomin probably thinks he's a mess, and he'd be right.

Moomintroll sits next to him on his log and places a paw gingerly on his back. "We could start from the beginning? Retrace our steps, see if you remember? And if not… Well it'll be like the first time again, right?"

The warmth that spreads through him is both comforting and embarrassingly pleasurable, and it's enough for him to peek at his friend through his fingers. "After the soup?"

They both laugh quietly, blushing and excited and full of anticipation. "After the soup."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry still no smut yet >w< i want it to go well and it didnt fit in the same chapter so im just gonna make it a seperate chapter


	3. Chapter 3

The soup was good, and the conversation was good too, if a little stilted. Snufkin doesn't think his cheeks have cooled down at all, if anything he's only blushing more now than he was before. Every time their eyes meet, all Snufkin can think of is those eyes on his body, followed by soft, strong paws, and then maybe a slightly rough, long tongue…

Anyway. They wait for the soup to digest enough that there won't be any soup-related accidents (it's gross but something they had to discuss, although he wouldn't want to discuss it again), and it almost feels like a year before Moomin douses the campfire and turns to Snufkin with dark eyes.

"If we're retracing our steps completely, I should carry you home." It feels precious, whatever is going on right now, and Snufkin feels like if he breathes, the moment will shatter.

"I suppose that would only make sense." Of course he wants to be carried. Should he be embarrassed by that?

Snufkin stands from the log, biting his lip when Moomin practically scoops him up.

Being in Moomintroll's arms has a surprising déjà vu sense to it. He's so strong, it almost sends Snufkin's mind into a frenzy, and if he presses his face against his shoulder, he can almost perfectly remember how it felt last night.

"Remember anything yet?" Moomin asks, and Snufkin can feel his voice rumble in his chest. They're so close.

"Yeah, you carried me home. I remember how it feels."

The troll hums softly, a smile on his face as he begins to walk back to Moominhouse. It's not as much of a walk, and Snufkin finds himself a little sad about that. His fingers curl into the fur of his chest carefully and it feels like he did that last time; maybe drunk Snufkin really isn't so different from sober Snufkin.

Moomin smells like the campfire; warm, and comforting, and kinda smokey from the campfire, and if Snufkin buries his nose into his shoulder, he can smell the soap his friend uses, and underneath that, something uniquely Moomintroll.

"You were rambling the whole way up to the house last night," Snufkin frowns, looking up at Moomin as he talks. "I don't think you even realised you were saying anything. It wasn't really very coherent."

They laugh quietly so as not to wake Moomin's parents, silent as they pass their bedroom door on the way to the stairs up to where Moomintroll's room is. Snufkin almost can't believe he agreed to whatever this is, but as they enter the bedroom, he's hit by a sudden wave of memory.

A knee between his legs, a tongue down his throat, a paw gripping his waist tight. Soft fur between ears, moonlight highlights and sweet kisses. Moomin's fingers twined with his and 'love' on his lips.

Oh. Oh no.

Snufkin is placed carefully on the bed before Moomin closes the door, and he stands quickly.

"Snufkin?" Moomintroll frowns, watching as Snufkin debates whether to jump out of the window. "... Oh you remember now, don't you?" His voice is soft, like Snufkin might startle like a flighty hatchling (and he might), and there's a hint of doubt in his eyes, like maybe he's beginning to think he miscalculated whether it was worth helping the mumrik remember.

He's torn between running away despite knowing how much it'll hurt the other and staying and confronting a situation that is even worse than originally thought. "I… I remember, but… Did I say anything to you… That didn't make sense?"

Snufkin internally begs for Moomin to say no, and he sighs in relief when he shakes his head. "Why? Did you say something you regret last night?"

The word regret plays over and over in his mind, like a broken record, until Moomin coughs pointedly, and Snufkin comes back from spacing out. "Um. No. It's fine."

"Right." Moomin looks awkward, paws twisting together, and Snufkin regrets reacting the way he did to the memory coming back. If Moomintroll didn't hear him confess then it's no big deal right? No big deal…

"Lie down with me, I still want to retrace our steps," Snufkin begins climbing back onto the bed and laying in the same position as he was when they laid together. "Just in case I forgot something." He can save this, because he wants it desperately.

Snufkin holds back a disbelieving laugh when Moomin's mood changes back almost instantaneously to the slightly teasing, slightly horny way he was at the campfire before the soup. He finds it a little funny that all it takes to bring the mood back is to lay down in a slightly alluring position and be vague about his intentions.

“Hm, are you sure?” Moomintroll asks, climbing onto the bed and over Snufkin, slotting his leg between the mumrik’s easily. “Because I’m not sure I remember it now.”

Snufkin laughs quietly, wriggling a little to get comfortable (but mostly to feel the way Moomin’s thigh rubs up against his crotch), biting his lip. “Well, I think it would be best that we did then.”

He leans up to press their lips together, the touch so much more electric without the alcohol-haze separating his senses. Moomintroll’s lips feel soft, warm, so different to Snufkin’s own slightly chapped ones, but the contrast feels great, and by the troll’s quiet stuttered breath, he’d guess it feels great for him too.

How many times has Moomintroll been kissed before? Sure, he’s probably not made out the way they did last night (a first for both of them, that much was obvious), but has anyone kissed him on the lips before Snufkin did? He hopes not.

A slide of Moomin's tongue along his lips causes him to hitch his knee up in response, a groan knocked from the troll's lungs. Hmm. Snufkin moves his knee again, only slightly, mouth parted as he grins when Moomintroll groans again.

"That didn't happen last night." Moomin hums against his lips, one of his paws sliding up under Snufkin's shirt slyly as the other holds him up steadily (how strong is he? He did carry Snufkin as if he weighed nothing after all…).

The mumrik hisses when his thumb rubs against his nipple teasingly, wanting their lips connected again. "Neither did that, you scoundrel."

There's laughter for a second before they go back to kissing, Snufkin's mind full of the troll's strength, heat pooling in his gut at the thought of being manhandled. But he gets the feeling that’s not going to happen tonight at least, if the way they keep rubbing up against each other says anything.

Having Moomin’s tongue in his mouth feels somehow stranger the second time around, long and rough and wet, but it’s kind of addictive. He tastes nicer without the sharp taste of whiskey on his breath, like the soup they just ate. Snufkin’s nose scrunches up a little in mirth, twirling his tongue around Moomintroll’s to stop him from laughing at the situation.

He still feels a little awkward, especially without the alcohol to ease his inhibitions and make him forget everything that’s so weird about this.

Moomin’s paw settles on his waist, fur brushing against his sensitive skin in a way that makes Snufkin instinctively squirm. And then the troll moves his thigh against Snufkin’s groin again, sending his mind catatonic. He moans around his tongue, legs spreading wide of their own accord, and any semblance of humour fades away into a desperate heat that he remembers from behind the drunken fog.

For a while, they become a grinding, moaning mess on the bed, chasing the pleasure blindly and without grace, and Snufkin would be embarrassed by how flooded his underwear is if the knee of his trouser leg wasn’t similarly wet with… Well, whatever. He has no idea.

It’s certainly not very elegant, but why should they care?

There’s many things he wants to do, like figure out what he’s working with between the moomin’s legs, or feel that tongue against his core, or even inside of him, but how can he focus on that when it feels so good to just do whatever feels right in the moment?

He’s certain that the fur on Moomin’s thigh must be sticky with his wetness, but Snufkin doesn’t even have the chance to find that gross before the troll pulls back from the kiss, lips shining with saliva and eyes dark with lust.

“N-next time we’ll go slow,” he promises, shifting his knee so it pushes directly against the wet patch on Snufkin’s trousers. He bites his fist to stop himself from crying out, distracted by his words. “If you want to do th-this again.”

“Oh god, yes!” Snufkin moans, voice muffled by his fist. His legs have started trembling with the need to cum, but if he can just keep going for a little longer…

There’s a moment where time seems to slow down for them, watching each other closely before it all crashes back down, hitting them like a pile of bricks and Snufkin cums, a dull heat filling his veins and flooding his body with pleasure and energy. He tenses, trying to ride it out, distantly registering the way Moomin groans out his name as he cums too, a white liquid staining Snufkin’s trousers leg.

The next thing he knows, they’re both giggling breathlessly, basking in the afterglow enough that they can ignore how sticky and wet they both are.

They clean up, settling into bed once Snufkin has on a pair of Moomin’s pyjamas (a little too baggy but they smell of the moomin and that’s all he could ask for), and once the troll’s quiet snore-like breaths fill the void of silence in the room, Snufkin presses a light kiss to his snout.

“I love you,” he whispers, knowing he won’t hear him. But in the name of retracing their steps, it only feels right to end the night the same way. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out!
> 
> That's all lol, hope you enjoyed :3

**Author's Note:**

> djkjvcskdfmcm drunk snufkin is inspired by drunk me, ur welcome


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